


Mask and the Mishap

by hummerhouse



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003)
Genre: M/M, Turtlecest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-16 12:35:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3488483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hummerhouse/pseuds/hummerhouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The TMNT are not mine. No money being made. <br/>Word Count: 1,471 Mask Tales<br/>Rated: PG-13 TCest Pairing: Raph/Mikey<br/>The adventures of a stray pit bull adopted by Raphael and named Mask.  Mask the Pit Bull dog is an OC character created by Teratophelia on deviantART and is used here with her permission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mask and the Mishap

            Baggy clothes, oversized shoes, and two fifty pound bags of cat food were a bit much even for the athletically limber Michelangelo.

            Stumbling into the lair, he stepped on the toe of his own shoe and nearly fell headlong down the ramp.  Only his freakishly supernatural sense of balance kept him upright, but he did juggle the cat food, dropping one bag in the process.

            As luck would have it, or at least Mikey’s luck, the bag didn’t break.  Kicking his shoes off and sending them flying, Mikey squatted down and retrieved the bag, his grip still tight on the other one.

            Klunk suddenly appeared out of nowhere, his ability to blend into the shadows rivaling that of their oldest brother Leonardo’s.  Yowling excitedly, Klunk began to wind his way in and out of Mikey’s legs.  Having scented the food, Klunk was eagerly letting his Dad know of his approval.

            “Good Klunk, nice Klunk,” Mikey crooned.  “Please be a good Klunky and stop trying to trip me.”

            The words only served to excite the cat, who doubled his efforts to show how much his Dad’s thoughtfulness meant to him.  Somehow Mikey made it to the kitchen without stomping on the cat.

            Raph watched the entire episode from the upper balcony of their home.  He’d known that Mikey was heading out to get cat food and had been listening for his return.  Standing next to Raph was his dog, Mask.  Having just risen from a nap, the sound of Mikey coming in made her ears prick forward and Klunk’s strident calls caused her tail to swing from side to side.

            Reaching down, Raph scratched behind Mask’s ears.  “Should we find out what the little nut ball is up to?” he asked her, grinning widely.

            She seemed to understand as she whimpered and headed for the stairs.  Normally Raph wouldn’t have bothered with them, choosing instead to leap to the floor below, but since acquiring Mask he’d had to modify a lot of his usual actions.  Afraid that Mask would try to follow his faster way down; Raph opted for leading the dog downstairs in a properly safe fashion.

            When they reached the lower floor, Mask ran ahead, going straight towards the kitchen.  Raph followed at a more leisurely pace, giving his brother time to sort out the food situation and put things away.

            Raph had only one single minded purpose at the moment and that was to help Mikey divest himself of his street clothes.  Making sure that Mikey got home safely was one reason he’d been waiting for his youngest brother.  The other was that whenever Mikey donned his human disguise, the sight had an oddly hypnotic effect on Raphael.

            “Cut it out, Mask,” Mikey said mildly, his voice drifting out to Raph.

            Stepping into the doorway, Raph crossed his arms over his plastron and leaned against the jamb.  Klunk was on the countertop, ‘talking’ a mile a minute, and Mask was following Mikey around the room, periodically leaping at him.

            Mikey managed to wrestle one of the bags into a cabinet and was holding the other on his shoulder, trying to keep it away from Mask.  He turned to see Raph standing in the doorway and grimaced.

            “Could you do something with your dog, bro’?” Mikey asked.

            “What’d you buy, Mikey?  I ain’t ever seen Klunk go so nuts over a bag of food.  Ain’t ever seen Mask act that way either,” Raph said, not moving from his perch.

            “It’s this new stuff I read about that’s supposed to help a cat’s digestive system and prevent hairballs,” Mikey said, shuffling his feet to avoid Mask’s paws.

            “Oh, new,” Raph said with a slightly sarcastic inflection.  “That means it costs a lot.”

            Mikey shot him a dirty look.  “Klunk deserves the best.  I have to take preventive measures ‘cause it’s not like I can take him to a vet.”

            Raph shrugged.  “Donny seems ta have a pretty good grasp of those skills.  Hey, don’t mind me, I ain’t saying nothing about how ya’ wanna spend your dough.”

            “Ignore Uncle Raph,” Mikey crooned to his cat.  “He sleeps with a big, slobbering dog and it’s a tossup which one has the worst manners.”

            Perching the bag on the edge of the counter and out of harm’s way, Mikey reached up to strip the top open.  The sound drew Klunk, who put his paws on the edge of the bag and began to wail.

            “Yep, that’s some great manners right there,” Raph scoffed as he watched Mikey tilt his head away from the cat’s insistent and rather high pitched wail.

            Mikey turned to give his brother a disdainful look and in that split second of inattentiveness, Mask leaped.

            Catching the side of the bag between her powerful jaws, Mask yanked it out of Mikey’s grip and onto the floor.  The big ripped open as her teeth punctured it and cat food sprayed from both the open top and the gaping hole.

            Jumping to try and grab the bag as it fell; Mikey tangled a toe in his baggy pants, hopping backwards in an attempt to avoid falling.  What he managed to do was step directly into the two large bowls that served as water containers for the pets.

            A tidal wave of water flew into the air and splattered in every direction.  Unable to find solid footing, Mikey hit the floor on his rump, landing in a large puddle and atop a thick scattering of hard cat food.

            Deathly silence reined for about three seconds and then Mask snuffled joyously and began to vacuum up the fallen cat food, her jowls snapping and slavering loudly.  Klunk looked down at the mess and let out a screech that could only be taken for indignation, swiftly dropping to the floor in an attempt to eat as much as possible before his ‘frenemy’ got to it.

            Raph burst out laughing, the ludicrous scene like something out of a slapstick comedy.

            Mikey scrambled to get up, but his feet kept slipping on chunks of cat food.  Finally he yelled, “Do something before she eats all the food!”

            Still laughing, Raph shuffled into the kitchen, keeping his feet firmly on the floor.  He got a firm grip on Mask’s collar and hauled the reluctant pit bull out of the kitchen.

            Taking her to Don’s lab, he thrust her inside; telling the startled genius, “Don’t let her out.”

            When Raph got back to the kitchen, he found Mikey was still seated on the floor, his elbows on his knees as he surveyed the mess.  Klunk sat in a corner, casually licking a paw and lifting it to clean his face, ignoring his Dad completely.

            The look on Mikey’s face was so forlorn that Raph bit back his laughter.  Shuffling his way over to where a broom was propped against the wall, Raph grabbed it and quickly swept the cat food into a neat pile.

            That done, he lowered a hand to Mikey and pulled his brother to his feet.  Mikey’s pants were soaked and his shirt fairly saturated; the floor a grimy mess where the water and food had mixed to create a brown gravy painting.

            “You know, you could have kept her in your room when you saw me come in with the food,” Mikey said accusingly.

            “Don’t blame this on Mask,” Raph said.  “It was your super food that made her nuts.  Why did ya’ buy a hundred pounds of the stuff anyway?  It’ll take Klunk forever ta eat all that.”

            Mikey looked at him sheepishly and shrugged.  “I had a coupon and I really hate these clothes.  I figured I’d save myself a few trips in the future.”

            “Ya’ hate these clothes, huh?” Raph asked with a lecherous grin.

            Pushing forward, he backed Mikey into the table, his fingers already working on the buttons on Mikey’s shirt.

            “Yeah,” Mikey answered in a breathy moan.  “Not just these; any clothes.  Don’t know how people can stand them.”

            “Seems like the best thing I can do for ya’ then is ta help ya’ take these wet things off,” Raph said, his voice dropping to a lusty tone.

            “R . . . Raph,” Mikey groaned, “we c . . . can’t leave this mess here.”

            Nipping at Mikey’s jawline, Raph popped open the button on his brother’s pants and slid the zipper down slowly.  Tipping forward, Raph’s weight pressed Mikey’s carapace onto the table, forcing Mikey to reach out and grip the edges.

            “Then I guess we won’t leave,” Raph husked, yanking the pants off his brother and tossing them over his shoulder.

            The water weighted material hit the light switch with unerring accuracy and plunged the kitchen into darkness.

            Klunk sauntered out, completely uninterested in the low moans and vibrant churrs he left behind.


End file.
